


Drums of Freedom

by PShakkah, Shakkah Lakkah (PShakkah)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Marching Band, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-08 09:20:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PShakkah/pseuds/PShakkah, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PShakkah/pseuds/Shakkah%20Lakkah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Eren wants to join the marching band."</p>
<p>The dish that Mom had been cleaning was immediately released from her grip and shattered when it hit the floor.</p>
<p>“What the hell, Mikasa?!”</p>
<p>Eren and friends join the Marching Titans of his high school. Band camp, hormones, competitions, music, new friends, and new problems run amok.</p>
<p>POV changes for each chapter</p>
<p>Rated M for: Possible sexy times, drug mention, mentions of abuse, bullying, cussing, and Reiners boobs</p>
<p>Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What About Football? (Eren)

 

 

**Eren's POV**

 

“Eren’s joining the marching band.”

The dish that Mom had been cleaning was immediately released from her grip and shattered when it hit the floor. 

“What the hell, Mikasa?!”

Dad looked up from his paper for a second and turned his head to make eye contact with me for a brief moment over his glasses. My breath hitched in my throat. He dropped his gaze back down to the local news. He usually finds that more interesting. At least I _think_ he does. I could never really tell with my dad...

Truth be told, marching band wasn’t my first choice. Armin was in band since middle school and got beat up a lot, but he refused to acknowledge it was because of his elective. I mean at least it wasn’t theatre or chorus, right?

Originally, I was supposed to do football. I had it all figured out. I would do weight lifting as an elective so I was ahead of everyone in junior varsity. Then, when the coach saw how amazing I was, I would be quarterback of varsity by sophomore year. It was foolproof... until the first day I tried out for the team anyways.

Everyone was at least a good three inches taller than me. It didn’t discourage me in the beginning. Five minutes later after line up, we practiced tackling. So... I admit I wasn’t expecting a running start to cause me to wake up on the bench with my head in Mikasa’s lap with a bloody tissue pressed against my nose.

She was in her varsity cheer uniform. OF COURSE she made varsity at her first try out. She’s fucking _Mikasa Ackerman_. Hell, she probably could have made football if she wanted... Admittedly, maybe football wasn’t something I was cut out for.

As we started heading home from tryouts, I heard a complex tempo and followed it to the track field. I saw high schoolers wearing enormous drums strapped to their bodies with harnesses. Mikasa and I would watch the parades that went through our neighborhood from the high school every halloween and I would be lying if I said that the drummers didn’t look really cool, but this was on a different level. They didn’t break eye contact with the short man in front of them, demanding their full attention. The rhythms were much more complicated than what they played at the parades and I was hypnotized.

 

I came back to the situation at hand when I heard Mom’s light footsteps quickly made their way over to me and my spot at the kitchen table. “Eren, I swear to god, if you join _one more extracurricular_ -”

“It’s different this time, Mom! I’m going to march in the Cadets or Blue Devils or something in college!”

I knew she wasn’t buying it. She always did that face where her eyebrows scrunched up when she didn’t believe me. It was the same no matter what it was. When I joined soccer, when I joined chorus, tried gymnastics out, baseball, swim team... Mikasa always ended up doing the same stuff and doing it like, a million times better.  It was embarrassing.

Mom’s face stayed fixed in position. “You said it would be different when you did violin in sixth grade.”

“Mom, _no one_ does violin for more than two years.”

She crossed her arms at that. I was not helping my case. Her voice raised. “You didn’t even last _one_ , Eren!”

A silence swept the room

“What about football? What about weight lifting? That scholarship you _promised me_ you would get?”

“It’s okay, Mom! I’ll just get an academic scholarship like Dad did!” Mom’s face became unreadable and I almost think I heard a laugh from behind the newspaper. What was so funny?

The laughing stopped before my dad folded the paper and put it down. “Eren could get a music scholarship if he does well enough in band.”

If Dad was on my side, this argument could be won. “Yeah! And I can still do weightlifting! I’ll just drop German!”

Mom focused on me again. “Eren, if you are not doing football, there is no merit to weightlifting. If you learn German, your grandparents might finally have a way to connect with you. That and it looks good on college applications. 

Eren shuddered thinking about his grandparents.

“Doesn’t Armin do band?” We both looked towards my dad after his addition. 

I can’t believe I forgot. Armin played... Xylophone or something... Glockenspiel? “Yeah! He plays Glock-”

“-Marimba, Eren.” My eyes met Mikasa’s. She was being no help to me and she chooses now to say something?

I noticed that Mom hadn’t said anything in a while. When I looked back at her, she relaxed her expression with a sigh. “Well... If you’re not doing football... I guess you wouldn’t have anything to do after school...”

Was this really happening? “Thank you, Mom-” She raised a finger to interrupt me.

“But you are not getting an allowance until the down payment for football camp is payed back!” After a moment of silence, her face relaxed again. “Now go play with your friends. I’m pretty sure band camp starts in August.” 

Dad looked at me and then at the stairs leading down to the basement. “If you finish band camp, I’ll let you clear out a spot in the basement for a practice area.” Dad never let me in the basement. Clearly this band thing was a big deal.

Mikasa stood up and I couldn’t keep my smile in as I headed to the door to tell Armin. “I want to join band too.”

I guess my parents expected that because they just nodded. Damn it, Mikasa.

As the door closed behind us, all I heard was a small mutter of “At least it’s not theatre.”


	2. Marching Napoleon (Eren)

 

Eren’s POV

 

The practice pad felt heavy in my lap while we waited outside the band room for tryouts. I almost didn’t even hear the rhythms I was repeating with my drumsticks while I listened to Armin.

“It’s okay. When you start marching, your footsteps will serve as a metronome. It makes all the in between rhythms easier to comprehend... Though you might have trouble transitioning to marching at first.”

I would get it, I had to get it. I would be better than Mikasa, and my parents would see how seriously I take drumline and I’ll be the best drummer on the field. That’s the course of action I’ll take. Simple. Easy. Straightforward.

“Eren! Slow down, you’re not keeping tempo!”

Apparently, Armin didn’t just play the mango or mambo or whatever the thing was called. He was in percussion. That meant that he had to have at least basic knowledge of everything from triangles, chimes, and maracas, to drums and giant xylophones. He was actually really good at all of the instruments he played.

One day he took me and Mikasa to the middle school band room and had us try all different kinds of instruments. Mikasa was good at everything, but I liked the snare drum. It was loud and sounded like a machine gun if you played it fast enough. It was between snare and quints for a little but Armin suggested I stick to one drum for now since I had surprisingly good natural rhythm.

“Also, I hear the percussion instructor at this school is brutal. So be prepared to get yelled at."

I nodded. I’ve seen the guy. He’s one of those teachers that goes by his first name and he barely even comes up to my chin. He seems to command respect despite his height, but I can’t see myself being too threatened by him.

“I also hear that he used to march in some DCI group when he was in school.” My eyes widened at that and I almost stopped playing for a minute.

“That’s really impressive, actually. Why’s he teaching high school then?”

“I don’t know, Eren.”

Mikasa finally spoke up when she saw the door open. “I think more people are trying out."

In strode a few more students including a short kid with an extremely close to the head buzz cut who was laughing. He was followed by a taller girl holding a flag. Her brown eyed gaze followed the boy and her ponytail bounced when she cackled along with him. They both had on shorts and random t-shirts.

“Good luck, Connie! You got this, dude!”

“YEAH! I’ll kick butt and we’ll go to band camp together!”

I barely recognized Sasha, she lost a lot of weight since swim team. She had a southern accent when we were kids but I could hear her hiding it in front of all the freshman. She was a grade above us and I guess she was also in marching band.

Connie sat down with us and started laughing. He was probably still thinking about whatever it was he and Sasha were talking about.

“Just don’t get stuck in pit or we won’t pass each other on the field. Good luck, shorty!” With that, she left to go join the other flag girls. We all sat in silence in the hallway, waiting for the percussion instructor while quietly drumming away at the floor.

A girl with low pigtails came out of the band room and asked everyone what kind of drum they needed. Within minutes, everyone was fitted with a drum and harness. “Levi will be out in a little bit.” We nodded and kept to ourselves. 

Armin had a comically large bass drum strapped to his body. I could see him struggling but he refused to admit it. Mikasa copied me and had a snare drum. Figures.

Armin was giving me some final bits of advice when the door finally opened. The short guy I had seen on the day of football tryouts stepped out. His expression always looked angry, but I had been told that it was his relaxed face. “Follow me.”

He didn’t make eye contact with anyone and began walking away. Everyone scrambled to their feet and followed behind, carrying the various drums we were given a few minutes prior.  


We stood at attention in the parking lot, drumsticks tucked to the side and feet firmly planted together.

The man faced us, I could have sworn he wasn’t blinking for a good five minutes. “Congratulations.” He folded his hands behind his back and began walking towards us. “You can successfully stand at attention. Unfortunately, it takes more than that to be in drumline." 

He pointed a small remote at what I thought was a megaphone and it started producing a very loud metronome beat. As he adjusted the tempo, he continued talking. “You will call me Levi. I am not trying to be cool by going by my first name. Don’t act like I’m your friend and don’t you dare act like I’m your dad.” He almost spat that last part. 

When the tempo was reached, he had us hit our drums at the same time as the metronome. He picked up the speed. Everyone was doing relatively well until he had us try doing downbeats. I could barely follow along and I got a glare from Levi in the process. He looked like he was about to say something to me when his gaze shot in a different direction. I didn’t dare move my head. Look up and forward at all times.

“What’s your name, shorty?”

“Connie Springer, sir!”

There was a brief pause. “Springer, your rhythm is shit. Get into it!”  


Double time was easier for me than downbeats. You just hit all the beats. As nervous as I thought it was, Connie’s struggling gave me more confidence. It was kind of mean, but hey, I'll take it. Levi also made Armin switch drums with Mikasa. I assumed it wasn’t a good thing for Armin based on his face. As he started giving us more complicated rhythms to mimic, he eventually made Connie put his drum down and gave him a pair of cymbals.

Levi’s angry expression was almost an audible thing the more I studied it. The guy was definitely as terrifying as everyone said he was. 

He then had us do basic marching without instruments. Then with instruments. Then he made people switch instruments around with each other. We sounded pretty good marching in place in my opinion. For a group of twelve freshman trying out, anyways.

Then he called the order to march forward. As soon as we took the first step, any kind of synchronization we had just fell apart. People crashed into each other and there was almost no attention paid to the metronome in the background despite Levi’s yelling.

We were finally called to parade rest and I thought I saw the faintest trace of a smile on the black haired man in front of us. Relief rushed over me when he called for a water break.

   
After a few more runs, we went inside as Levi disappeared into the band director’s office.

I looked over at Armin. “Do you think we made it in?” Instead of answering my question, his blue eyes stayed glued into his lap.

“I think we made it... I just didn’t think he’d take me off of bass drum.”

I hated when Armin sulked. It was like he didn’t know how good he was. I put my hand on his back and gave him a light pat. “He put you on like, everything, though.” No response. “Maybe he thinks you’re just awesome at all of it and can’t decide where you should be.”

He finally looked over at me. “I just want to march with _you guys._ If I get put in the pit-”

He didn’t have time to finish his sentence before the door burst open and Levi walked out. Without a word, he slapped a list on the door. “Congratulations to most of you. Get ready to get the shit kicked out of you on Monday. That’s when home camp starts.”

As soon as he disappeared, countless aspiring drummers flew to their feet and ran to the list. My eyes scanned the list  for my name. I didn’t see it at first and I felt a cold sweat take over my face.

“Oh man...” Armin’s dejected mutter told me he probably was probably in the pit orchestra.

Connie’s agonizing yell tore through the hall. “Nothing!  _Nothing at all._ I’m not even in _pit!_ ”

Mikasa’s soft voice found my ear. “Eren, look under the snare section.” My eyes followed her words before I even registered what she said.

  
 _Eren Jaegar - Snare 3_


	3. Flag Boy (Connie)

Connie’s POV

 

Shit. _Shit. **Shit. SHIT.**_

__

Sasha and me have been planning this perfect thing. I was gonna be on drumline, and she was going to be in colorguard like she was last year. The last year of middle school without Sasha was _unbearable_ for me. Fuck. Ever since we met, we just clicked. So when I finally managed to drag myself out of the band hall and outside towards the colorguard, I felt like I had to report the end of an era or something.

 

The girls were all stretching when my eyes made contact with Sasha’s. I didn’t even need to say anything. She flew to her feet and grabbed my hands.

 

Her brown eyes were burning into my face. “It’s okay, Connie. I have another plan. But you have to trust me.”

 

Sasha’s plans have had me in some of the most compromising positions of my life, but everything was always okay in the end. This would be no different? Right?

 

Before I could even respond to her, I was yanked towards the stretching girls. There was this one blonde girl just watching me. I admit she was hot, but she also looked like she was about to rip my head off.

 

“Sasha, wait! What are we-”

 

Sasha looked directly into my face one more time before turning to face her teammates with  huge smile. “Girls, this is Connie Springer and he’s trying out for the colorguard!”

 

_What. The. Fuck. Sasha._

 

I know a secret. It’s a secret that some people in _marching band_ don’t even know. Colorguard is fucking hard. What is supposed to be flag twirling turns into smiling until your cheeks hurt, reps until your arms fall off, and discovering weaknesses and injuries you didn’t even know were possible. After Sasha came back from band camp last year, she smiled with a busted lip and showed me bruises that were colors I didn’t even know existed. I just shrugged it off though it looked really painful. Colorguard ended in the fall anyways, right?

 

_Wrong_

Sasha discovered indoor colorguard. Also known as winter guard. It lasts till well into spring though. It’s just dancing with heavy and big things swinging at your face, ready to break something. By the end of the season, she had a hip that always bugged her and she discovered she had tendonitis. Now she’s trying to sign me up for it.

 

“You think he can handle it?”

 

I looked down to see the blonde girl quirking an eyebrow. She had an elastic brace over her knee that was completely uncovered by her shorts. I assumed she was wearing shorts, anyways. The shorts were covered by this enormous grey hoodie with the sleeves pushed up to her elbows. How the hell wasn’t she passing out from the heat? I guessed she was on weapons line based on her gloves. She probably had authority by the looks of it.

 

“Annie, Connie breakdances so he can follow a beat. Apparently, he can’t play drums, though. I haven’t quite figured out what that’s about.”

 

“Ms. Ral should be here soon, get him stretching so he’s ready when she gets here.”

 

Sasha beamed as she pulled me to the floor. “Here. Grab my hands and spread your legs.” I did as I was told but I had a bad feeling when she put her legs on my calves. “Ready?”

 

I didn’t quite get what she was asking me but nodded anyways. I assumed she meant for tryouts. Even though I was kind of worried, as long as Sasha was with me, we would be fine. If I make the team, we can practice together and I’ll have her to myself again. “Hell yeah! I’m gonna make the-”

 

“Exhale!” She pulled my hands forward and forced my legs apart. It felt like she just tore my balls in half.

 

“FUCK!” My breath came out as a hiss to try and cope with it. My eyes squeezed shut while I tried to relax and go with it. She pushed more and more but it wasn’t all that unbearable anymore. When I opened my eyes and looked around, I saw fourteen pairs of eyes glued to Sasha and I. I almost thought they were mad at me for cussing until some random girl spoke up.

 

“...You’re... really flexible.”

 

I looked down. It’s been a while since I could get into the splits. To my surprise I still got it. “Holy shit, I am.”

 

“I told you guys. He used to breakdance!” Sasha looked... proud?

 

“So he has arm strength as well?” I looked up to see Annie. She looked genuinely intrigued. I honestly thought her only expression was grumpycat until then.

 

“Uh kind of...”

 

Sasha flashed a cocky grin at Annie. “Show them your handstand, Connie!”

 

Before I knew it, I was doing all these tricks in front of all these girls. They started getting really excited. I stood onto my hands and held it for about two seconds before I felt the summer off from dancing take effect on my abs. My whole body started shaking as I struggled to hold my weight. I won’t fall. I have to look good for these people.

 

A fluttery, friendly voice broke my concentration. “Hi, girls! Oh! And who is this young man?”

 

I dropped from my handstand to get a look at where the voice was coming from. Based on what Sasha’s told me, the ginger woman in front of me could only be her coach. Petra Ral... I think? Something weird like that.

 

“This is my friend! He’s going to try out for the team today!”

 

She smiled so sweetly. I think she was about my height. She looked so delicate. “Hi, Mrs. Ral! I’m Connie.”

 

Her smile disappeared for a second as she quietly corrected me. “Umm, it’s _Ms._ Ral...” Shit. It was a little bit before she spoke up again. “Well, Good luck, Connie!” Her mood recovered. Her voice was sweet again. I didn’t know how quickly it would transform while she was running flag work with us, though.

 

After getting a flag, she started yelling like a banshee. Everyone grabbed their equipment and ran to their places. Sasha pointed me out to the potential members and I nodded a thanks before running over their way.

 

Colorguard came to me a lot easier than drumming did. It was choreography and that was something I was used to. I’ve always been good at following a beat but I’ve never really been all that great at making one. Sasha can tell you all about that from the time we tried beatboxing and rapping together...

 

The tryouts came and went. We didn’t do anything like tossing the flag. She said we’d learn that at band camp.

 

“Congratulations. You all made the team. Now rest up and be ready for home camp on Monday.”

 

We all replied at attention in unison. “Yes, Ma’am!” I gotta admit, there always was a really awesome chill that ran down my spine when everyone responded in unison. It was kind of refreshing in a weird way.

 

She dismissed us and as routine, Sasha and I started walking home together.

 

As soon as the rest of the girls were out of earshot, Sasha let out a huge sigh of relief and started talking with that drawl she has when she doesn’t think about talking. “Man, I was scared for a good minute there! I almost thought ‘cha weren’t gonna make it in band at all. Good thing I thought up the guard thing, huh?”

 

Her accent made me smile as soon as it left her mouth. Sasha can always just drop the act around me and I _love that_. It made me feel special. She confided in me after her first day of high school it seemed like so long ago even though it’s only been a year.

 

She called me after she got out of class and asked if I wanted to play games. She didn’t sound as cheery as usual, though. She sounded really weird. I got worried and made it to her house before she even did.

 

We sat on her bed and she almost started sobbing. She refused to talk the way she normally did. Every word that left her mouth was made with such effort. The instructors at her orientation made fun of her. Not directly, but they called other teachers to come over and listen to the southern girl talk. She felt like it was a bad thing and they treated her like she didn’t get a proper education up until that point.

 

It took me two weeks before I finally got her to drop it around me. I told her that how she talked didn’t make a difference to how she was perceived. I told her it didn’t sound like her and she should be herself.

 

I called her every day for two weeks and spoke in a different accent every day. Russian, Brooklyn, Canadian, German... She got a kick out of Swahili. Eventually she got the message and told me so in her normal voice. She was finally happy again. I made her happy. It was probably at that time I realized how much I really liked Sasha. Like, as _more than a friend_. She doesn’t owe me jack, though and I’ve tried to tell her how I feel but...

 

“Yes! Home, sweet home!” My thoughts were interrupted by her overreaction. She started making her way into her house when she suddenly turned around. “You wanna come in for a spell?”

 

I looked down at the permission slips for band camp in my hands. “Sorry, Sash’. I’d love to, but I have to get these to my dad before he goes to his night job.”

 

She nodded. I guess the thought of us going to band camp together was better than one night of playing games. “Yeah, I get it. That reminds me of my own, actually. Gotta get to it.”

 

“Y-Yeah. So... Sasha. I was wondering if you wanna go to that Pizza place everyone in band is talking about sometime?” I felt the heat rise to my face as I tried to stay cool.

 

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

 

“With me.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Alone...”

 

She paused in confusion before her brown eyes lit up. “Well, it’s always just us, right? You’re the only one that can keep up with my stomach.”

 

A chuckle slipped out. “Sasha, _no one_ can keep up with your stomach.”

 

“Well you come close enough!”

 

“Haha... yeah...” Shit. “I mean like...” Calm down, Connie. _You got this._

 

“Sasha, I love you. Let’s go have dinner together sometime.” literal exhaustion took hold of my nerves after that. I was so anxious to hear her response. Did I ruin the friendship? Is she uncomfortable now? Can she not think of me in that way-

 

“Love you too, man. You’re my most important friend.” She smiled again. “And yeah! Dinner sounds awesome!” If my mouth wasn’t closed, I swear to god I would be screaming.

 

“Y-yeah. Bye, Sasha...”

 

“Bye, Connie!”

 

As she slammed the door, I saw her dad smoking from the patio in the backyard. He had the most powerful expression of pity I must have seen at least ten times now. “Good luck, kid.”

 

“...Thanks, Mr. Braus.”

 

“Maybe next time.”

 

Probably not.

  
  
  
  


Notes:

 

God I love Connie and Sasha. They add so much to Shingeki. I literally couldn't pick who's POV I want to do the story from because I know I'll regret it down the road. So I'm doing it from _everyone_ 'sPOV. Let me know what you think!

  
Weapons line is the part of colorguard that uses sabers and rifles. Rifles don’t actually have any functioning gun part and are generally made of wood.


	4. Honeymooners (Annie)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Careful readers, there is some smut in this chapter. be aware of it!

Annie’s POV

 

It was hot outside. Like _at least_ ninety degrees. The walk home is always terrible in the summer... I’ve always been more of a winter person... Although I don’t really like winter much either.

 

...Why am I so annoyed right now? ...Oh yeah.

 

 _She’s_ walking home with me.

 

“...so then he asked me out! What a fucking loser! _Of course_ I said no. I mean like, was he expecting anything else? Circle of life and shit. Check the pecking order and try again later, am I right? So he starts going off about respect..”

 

Unfortunately, Hitch had forced this thing to happen where we walk home together since we live in the same apartment building. It’s more like I start walking home, she finds me, and then starts telling me about all this shit I _really_ don’t care about. Other than weapons line, we have literally _nothing_ in common. It’s gotten to the point where I tune her out and just reply with hums that almost sound like a real answer.

 

“...Annie? Are you listening?”

 

“Hmm.”

 

“Yeah. So I don’t understand why people assume they’re like, in my league or something. I am at the top of my class and I’m the colorguard _captain_.” She smiled even wider. She already smiles like the fucking Cheshire cat with her relaxed face, when she makes it wider it’s even worse.

 

We’re almost home. Just bear with it, Annie.

 

“Like, you and I are probably the best people in colorguard. We don’t have to settle for anything.”

 

“Whether we’re good or not, we’re still in marching band. That’s pretty low on the ‘food chain’ if you ask me.”

 

She let out an annoyed laugh. “I didn’t _ask you_ , Annie.”

 

This is why I stick to hums.

 

We entered the apartment building. She lives two floors above me and there are no elevators in the establishment. Luckily for me, I live on the lower floor.

 

I fished out my key until I heard tell tale creaking behind the door followed by a stifled yet audible “Ah...nnnn.” Hesitation took hold of my nerves. _Not this shit again..._

 

“Are your parents doing it again? God. Why are they home at this hour anyways? Don’t they have jobs or something?”

 

They probably think they’re being discreet again, too... “Yeah. Work should start soon I think.”

 

“Oh. Well, you can hang out with me till this passes, I guess. Talking to you is fun.”

 

The key found the lock before I even realized what exactly she said. “That’s okay, Hitch. _Mom_ has to go to work in a bit anyways. I’ll just deal with it.”

 

I heard her footsteps continue up the staircase. “Fine. Suit yourself.” She stopped for a second. “Wait, what about your Dad? Is he freeloading?”

 

“... he’s doing an overnight shift I think.”

 

“Ah. Well see you on Monday, I guess.” When I knew she was gone, I turned the lock as loudly as I could and even rattled the door for good measure. Clearly, they didn’t hear it.

 

“nnnNNN... yes...”

 

Well. Here goes my eyesight.

 

I turned the knob and entered our shitty apartment. I looked over to the couch to see Reiner’s back. I also saw way more of his ass than I ever wanted to. He had two long tanned legs in his hands, successfully steadying the body below him. Though I couldn’t imagine that to be comfortable, it appeared to be doing wonders for Berthold. The moans he was letting out would put porno to shame and his toes were curled so tightly, they looked white.

 

Reiner bent down and planted kisses all down his neck and collar. When he started sucking near the base of the neck, Berthold let out an inhuman whine.

 

“Reiner, please...”

 

“Shh...” The blond bent down to kiss the skinnier boy softly on the lips.

 

That’s it. I was going to let them finish, but hearing them call out to each other is just embarrassing to listen to.

 

“Guys. We have to fill out these damn marching band consent forms. Then _Mom_ and I need to go to work in an hour.”

 

They immediately froze in place. A long arm grabbed a nearby pillow and the owner buried his face in it. The blonde turned his head to meet my face. “Oh. Welcome home, Annie. I thought you were at guard tryouts.”

 

_These guys..._

 

“ _I was._ It’s almost six. Finish up and then Bert needs to get dressed.”

 

I ran as quickly as I could into the bedroom. Those two disappear into their own world when they do this shit. It’s a nuisance. They weren’t always like this, though. When we were younger, we met because we were all placed in the same foster home. Us three and Berwik.

 

My parents died before I can even really remember. I never really tried to be the “ideal child” so I was generally not a favorite among the potential parents.

 

Bert was put up for adoption by his teenage mother. Bert got letters from her for the first few years but then they stopped. He was always really awkward so he never really clicked with potentials, either.

 

Reiner was rescued from a bad household after his dad was arrested. He doesn’t even know why. _Every_ potential parent that came to our foster home wanted Reiner. He was optimistic, friendly, and smart, but he always acted completely fucking _crazy_ when someone almost adopted him. He never said why but Bert and I knew he wouldn’t leave us if we didn’t go first. He was so selfless it was disgusting.

 

Berwick was like Reiner but he couldn’t just act batshit. Eventually, he got picked up by a family in California when we were all twelve. The three of us were stuck in the foster care system for a few years until Reiner started working with some shady guy. Bert pleaded for him to stop but Reiner was determined to get out and take both of us with him.

 

He gave the guy money he stole from his foster parent’s house and managed to get us all fake identities and certificates. We all posed as each other’s biological parents and managed to buy this shitty apartment two years ago. I honestly have no idea how we managed to do all that without getting caught but Reiner assured us that as long as we pay the rent, we could finish high school without the help of the shitty foster system.

 

We all got jobs and we all do well enough in school that we don’t draw attention to ourselves. Though a pizzeria wasn’t my ideal career choice, it meant free food and good pay plus tip.

 

As I finished putting on my black “Mama Maria’s Pizzeria” shirt, I finally heard the noise in the living room pipe down. A few minutes later, I heard a knock on my door. Bert opened the door with his own shirt and red visor. In his hand was a plate of roast beef and mashed potatoes. He was sweating and wouldn't look me in the eye. His embarrassment was almost entertaining enough to make up for the unpleasant memory. _Almost._

 

“Uhh...here... I know you’re kind of getting sick of pizza so I made you something else...” He handed me the plate.

 

It looked good so I started eating it. He coughed a little and started rubbing his neck before speaking up. “S-sorry about that thing earlier. Reiner’s just really...”

 

“Horny?”

 

“...Affectionate.”

 

Our eyes met and he immediately closed the door. He was usually a lot more comfortable with me but ever since he and Reiner started getting down and dirty on each other, the subject caused him to just retreat from me. It was actually kind of disheartening...

 

Once I got into the living room, I spread the papers around the table. “Okay. Here are Reiner’s, here are Bert’s, and here are mine.” I scribbled down as the mother of Reiner and Bert, or should I say Helen Braun and Linda Fubar. After putting down my well practiced signature, I looked over my papers to make sure that my _parents_ had filled everything out correctly. Rhonda and Ivan Leonhart. Good.

 

Reiner looked over at the dark haired boy. “Are you marching your bass clarinet _again?”_

 

“Reiner, there are bass clarinets in marching band!” He was clearly tired of this subject.

 

“I know, I know, but don’t you think you’d want to play something a little easier to hold?”

 

“Well, we can’t all have instruments specifically created for marching like the a _Sousaphone.”_

 

“It’s just an oddly shaped tuba for marching. Yours is literally your normal instrument with a harness.”

 

Bert looked toward his instrument case against the wall. “I just really like my bass clarinet, I’m not comfortable with normal clarinet anymore...”

 

When we finished the forms, I put on my visor, grabbed my reusable shopping bag with the essentials, and headed out the door with Bert, who quickly swept the keys of the counter. “See you later, Reiner.”

 

He smiled big and waved as we closed the door behind us. “Bye, Annie! Bye, Bertl! See you when I go in for my shift!”

 

It was a quiet ride to work. Neither of us are very good at starting conversations and Bert doesn’t talk much while driving. That is kind of Reiner’s job. Luckily a song came on that we both smiled at.

 

The lanky guy turned to me with a little smile and quietly stated, “I love The Neighborhood...”

 

“They’re pretty good.” _Thank you, Bert._

 

“I’m glad that Sweater Weather is getting them popular, but I kind of wish they played more songs by them.” His shoulders finally relaxed.

 

“You and I both always liked indie rock, huh?”

 

He nodded in response and started genuinely smiling. “We should check out a concert sometime... I mean, if we make enough tip money. I think Foster the People are coming to town after the marching season ends”

 

“That’d be cool. Does Reiner like it?”

 

His smile cracked as he let out a low chuckle. “No. The closest he ever got was Imagine Dragons. Even then, it was only really Radioactive. He’s bred for classic rock through and through I guess. When you think about it, it’s kind of weird considering he also likes techno...”

 

I felt myself smile at the comfort in our conversation. I was almost sad when I felt the car stop and looked out to see “Mama Maria’s Pizzeria” in bright, broken neon above me.

 

We were immediately put to work after we secured our red aprons over the shirts. Friday nights were insane here. It’s like wired into everyone’s brain that they have to go out on a friday night.

 

Bert and I tag teamed to deal with the register and the kitchen together. The phones were ringing like crazy and our driver was overwhelmed. She drove a shitty car in the first place but she preferred driving to interacting with people at the restaurant.

 

As soon as the freckled girl walked in I had a stack of pizzas ready to go. “Ymir, these are all on the east side of town. When you come back we have the west ones in the back.”

 

“Ughh. Why does every person in America need god damn pizza tonight?!” She stormed up to the counter and grabbed the pizzas. Just as quickly as she entered, she was gone. Customers stared at her as she left.

 

When she came back a second time to grab the rest, Berthold asked her if she could pick up Reiner on this run. He cringed when she asked for the guy to repeat what he asked. It was loud so I didn’t really blame her, but Bert had been kind of scared of Ymir since band camp from the previous year. I’m not quite sure what happened but it could just be that Ymir naturally had a really aggressive air about her.

 

“Yeah. I’ll grab your boyfriend. Just _after_ I deliver the goods.” She then proceeded to smile at the blush and sweat that began to creep up Berthold’s face.

 

He exploded on cue. “H-He’s not my boyfriend, Ymir! B-But he needs to get to work!”

 

“Okay, whatever. I’ll get him. Just tell him to be ready in fifteen minutes.” Her lip ring flashed as she left with yet another obnoxious stack of pizzas.

 

I saw Bert look slightly miffed at Ymir’s boyfriend comment. He looked like he was in need of some comfort. Dragging him by the arm, I brought him into the kitchen. “No one knows, Bert. You can _relax._ Ymir just likes getting reactions out of people.”

 

He turned my way and flashed a weak smile. “...yeah, you’re right. I don’t even know if we’re actually dating or anything like that...”

 

“You guys are basically a married couple.”

 

He let out a really light laugh. It had almost no volume to it at all. It suited him, though. “Maybe... but even so, it’d probably be bad if anyone found out...”

 

“If anyone gives you shit about it, I’ll beat them to a bloody pulp, okay?” I didn’t realize how seriously I took my own words. After all the three of us had been through together, they were the closest thing I had to a family.

 

We smiled at each other for a second until the bell for the counter started ringing.

 

Notes:

  
I thought a bass clarinet would suit Berthold. It’s not just a big clarinet. It’s like a clarinet decided to grow to the size of a bassoon and then have a little saxophone thingy at the bottom.  It is a instrument in marching band but not nearly as common as other instruments.


	5. Sunflower (Ymir)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flowers, Pizza, and Ymir: the Dorky Lesbian.
> 
> tw: implied abuse

Ymir’s POV

  
  


“Like, the sex is great but I'm not quite sure what I am to him, y'know?” The blond was someone who constantly felt the need to talk with his arms. I felt like one of these days he was going to accidentally slug me across the jaw. The car was tiny as is, I didn’t need a beefcake like Reiner making it feel like there was even less room to move. Speaking of which, the shirt he had on looked way too small on him. He must’ve grabbed Berthold’s again by accident.

  
  


“Reiner, look, I sympathize with you and your beanpole of a boyfriend, but if you can’t calm your ass down and sit still while talking, I’m gonna throw you out of the car.”

  
  


He laughed at that and then proceeded to violently elbow me in the side. If my teeth clenched any harder, they would probably shatter. “Aww, c’mon, Ymir! Lighten up a little!” His smile could probably melt the roof of my car if he aimed it correctly. I’d make him pay for damages. “So what’s going on with you?”

  
  


“Nothing.”

  
  


“Nothing?”

  
  


“Nothing.”

  
  


Ever since Reiner outed me and I admitted it, he’s decided to use me as his personal therapist for all things gay. Something about how he’s an extrovert. Needs to vocalize his problems to others so he can figure it out or some shit like that. The only thing he ever talks about though is that sweat factory Berthold. It’s hard being in the closet, then again I was never in it.

  
  


“There seriously can’t be nothing going on. How’s living with your dad?” gripping the bottom of his shirt, he began to wipe the sweat off his forehead. 

  
  


Even with the windows rolled down, the air conditioning has been broken since I bought the piece of shit Chevy at the dealership. The truck was rusty but apparently blue once upon a time. A friend of my dads got it a black paint job. It looked nicer but made the heat problem even worse.

  
  


The silence was too long for Reiner Braun to handle. “Shouldn’t have asked. Let’s change the subject.” Reiner was persistent, I’ll give him that. 

  
  


“It’s surprisingly nice, actually. He really cleaned himself up like he said he would.”

  
  


The smile came back instantaneously. “That’s great! Where’s he working now?”

  
  


Good question. “...not actually sure. It's a car repair place somewhere in I think...”

  
  


The disgusting pink neon of the pizzeria sign blared through my windshield. Reiner got of of the car and closed the door. He leaned in through the open window. “Thanks for the ride again. Let me grab your deliveries real quick.” 

  
  


As soon as he was out of the car I remembered my stupid band forms. I had to get those to my old man or I wouldn’t be able to go to camp this year. My fault for not bringing the forms home yet.

  
  


I could already tell Reiner was bringing a lot of pizzas out since he left the restaurant by pushing his back against the door. If it was less than eight pizzas, he could do it one handed no problem. His shirt rode up as he made his way to my car. He loaded them in and gave a fake salute before he ran back inside. Must’ve been busy at the restaurant too. At least I would be raking in some grocery money with the overtime.

  
  


The stick shift felt hot as hell and I felt sticky from all the sweat. The deliveries were supposed to go to Sina Park, one of the nicer neighborhoods in our delivery range. Unfortunately, it was just barely  _ in _ our delivery range. At least they tipped well. By the time I got there, sunset turned to dark blue and some of the stars started peppering the sky. After checking the address again at a red light, I realized ten of the pizzas were going to the same place. Must be that party kid again.

  
  


When I walked up to the enormous house, I couldn’t help but notice absence of a certain red car that was always missing when he was home alone. Ever since the summer started, it’s been a party every weekend. The bass of some ridiculous techno song vibrating through my feet on the doorstep. The pounding beat throbbed in my head and I did my best to knock out of rhythm. They probably couldn’t even fucking hear me. I felt my frustration bubble up as my thumb rammed into the bell at least ten more times. 

  
  


The door swung open and out stepped Kirchstein with a new haircut. His roots were darker than the rest of his hair so all his shaved hair was a much darker color than the top. I started laughing at him, extending the pizzas in my arm. “That’ll be eighty bucks, Two-Tone.”

  
  


He raised an eyebrow sarcastically and handed me a wad of cash he accumulated from him and his party guests. “You cut your ponytail off? Now you really look like a dude. And be nice, we’re gonna be going to school together this year.”

  
  


A chuckle escaped my throat. “No more private school? What happened, John? Ya flunk out or something?” Jean always did this snooty little snarl when I pronounced his name wrong and... there it was.

  
  


“For your information, Ymir, I get good grades! I don’t wanna end up a pizza man in the future.”

  
  


“ Well, Kirchstein, some people need to  _ work  _ for their money.” He shut his mouth at that. I almost felt bad.  _ Almost _ . I hate to admit it, but I kinda have this bias against wealthy people when I know there’s at least a hundred poor people for every one that was well off. It just kinda ticks me off. Why can you afford a mercedes and I can’t even afford lunch?

 

He dug a twenty out of his pocket. “Here’s some tip. Thanks for getting it all over here so late.”

  
  


“And not bringing the party up to anyone who might know your parents?” I grabbed the bill and stuffed it crumpled in my pocket next to the car keys.

  
  


A guilty smile spread across his face. “Thanks.”

  
  


“And practice your trumpet for god’s sake. You sound like a trainwreck.”

  
  


“Fuck you, Ymir! I already made honor’s band!”

 

“You do know a requirement for honor's band is to do marching band, right?”

 

“Pardon?”

 

This kid... Though I can't entirely blame him for being clueless. Our band program isn't great at keeping the general public informed. There is not enough support from band parents so information usually gets passed by word of mouth through the students. 

 

“Ymir. Are you just being a dick or are you serious right now?” His summer plans were crumbling before his eyes and he couldn't make it stop. 

 

“Sorry, Jean.” I dug my crumpled band form out of my pocket. “You gotta get this turned into school by Monday. Home camp starts the day after. Get your parents to sign it.”

 

“...”

 

When he stared blankly at the form I poked him in the head. “Gene? You hear me?”

 

His hand shot up and grabbed mine. “There's really no way out of this?”

 

“Well, you can always just, y'know, do beginners band.”

 

“My parents wouldn't appreciate that very much...”

 

“Hm...” He kept his head down and started mumbling to himself. I couldn't hear a word since the beat emanating from the door was so loud. “Marching band's fun. You'll be fine.” 

 

“Yeah. Okay. See you next week I guess...” A hollow expression took control of his face as the door closed between us. I made a memo to myself to get a new form at the front desk tomorrow.

 

A couple of pizza deliveries later and I reached this state of meditation I achieve when driving at night sometimes. I just kind of become hyper aware of everything going on in my life. Every upcoming bill my house has, the average paycheck of my freshly out of rehab father, realizing that we probably won't last until graduation with just us two making money...

 

Ugh. I need to think about something else. The street lights had interesting names here. Lily Cove Court, Baby Breath Boulevard... The consistency with alliteration was cute I guess. It matched since just about every mansion in this neighborhood had a well kept garden whether the gardener was some paid minority or not.. Lilac Lane, Poppy Field Parkway. Sunflower Street. I've always liked sunflowers. Not sure why but they were just very demanding for flowers. All big and shit. 

 

Then I noticed a girl crouching under the street sign. It must have been a kid. A head of long, light hair was buried in her arms. She must be crying or something. I braked the car and rolled down the window. “Hey, Blondie! You okay?”

 

Her head popped up but she faced away from me, frantically wiping her face. “I'm fine thanks! I'll be fine!”

 

I pulled over to the side of the road and got out of my car. That was so cheery, it sounded robotic. Something was up and for some reason I couldn't leave it alone. I ran around and sat directly in front of her. She was still covering her face. Upon closer inspection, I realized she was petite but had to have at least been a teenager. ”Hey.”

 

The blonde girl looked up from her hands and in that moment, I felt my entire world change. There was a glow that came off of her face. I might have just been imagining it but it was like the sun came out for a few minutes and was burning me. Her eyes were so big and blue that it was ridiculous. Both her lips and cheeks were pink and if I didn't know any better, I could have sworn some goddess fell out of the sky and I found her first. 

 

When the magical “glow” disappeared, the discoloration of some of her skin became apparent. Under one of her eyes was the start of a fresh bruise and a bloody nose to accompany it. No tears though. Just blood and bruises. A red smear ran across her face from when she tried to wipe it earlier. Her white blouse was ruined. If it wasn't summer, she could have caught hypothermia or something. Realizing I was staring at her a lot longer than any normal person should stare at someone else, I forced my gaze somewhere else. It didn't last long. I decided to check her face again in case I missed any injuries.

 

Blue eyes scanned my face. “I'm fine really. It looks a lot worse than it is.” And she smiled. Every line this girl said sounded rehearsed. I didn't buy it.

 

“I got some tissues in the car. Just clean yourself up a bit.” I got up and reached a hand out to her. This wasn't like me but I felt like I needed to help this girl. I didn't know what I could do but I had to do something.

 

To my surprise, a tiny hand grabbed mine and I pulled her up. “Thank you, Ymir.”

 

She knew my name? How did she know my name? Have I met her somewhere before? I think I would've remembered if I ever saw someone this cute before. Why is she staring at my....name tag. Oh. I felt my face getting hot. 

 

“Sure thing, uh....”

 

“Christa.”

 

“I-I've still got some pizzas to delivery but if you want to tag along, you're--” Did I just say pizzas to  _ delivery?! _

 

She stifled a giggle but then was expressionless very quickly. Then she smiled sweetly. The transformation was so sudden but her smile was so distracting I kind of forgot about it. She must have spent a lot of time trying to control her emotions. “”I would love to tag along. If you don't mind anyways.”

 

Before I knew it we were driving down yet another floral inspired street. The radio was busted, so a lot of the ride was spent in awkward silence. Awkward for me anyways.

 

“So uhh... What happened to your face exactly? Did you get into a fight?”

 

“Not a fight, really... someone just got mad at me.” The nonchalance of her statement sent chills up my spine. 

 

“I wouldn't really call a black eye and a bloody nose 'someone just got mad at me.'” The idea that someone would hit a face like hers made  _ me  _ mad.

 

“I bruise and bleed easily so it's not really a big deal. I ran into a door is all.” If the words leaving her mouth were not such obvious lies, her demeanor would have sold it.

 

“Was it someone in your family?” I looked over and she stared into her lap. Nailed it. I've seen this one too many times.

 

“Don't tell anyone.” And every time, I've learned it's better not to interfere.

 

“I know it's complicated. You need to rely on them after all. And who would I tell? You don't go to the local high school do you?”

 

“N-no, I'm about to go to Saint Joseph.” Private school. Figures.

 

“Well, it's none of my business, but you can't let your family abuse you. I won't tell anyone but  _ you _ should. Is there any external family you trust?”

 

“...”

 

Well shit. 

 

I made my rounds and took the longer way around. Customers were complaining about the slow delivery. Kirchstein's twenty covered just about every tip I didn't get, though. One man refused to accept the pizza so late, so I split it with Christa. We started talking about our favorite foods and what we like to order from Starbucks. She likes strawberry fraps and vanilla mochas. Cute.

 

We both just stared at the Sunflower Street sign. I didn't want her to go back. I didn't want her to get hurt again. I bit my lip ring and looked at her. “Can I see you again sometime?”

 

She whipped out her phone. “Yeah! That'd be fun! It just has to be when my parents aren't home or something. What's your number?”

 

“Uhhh. It's err....” Eventually I managed to communicate the sequence to the ever patient Christa.

 

“Bye, Ymir!”

 

“'Night, Christa...”

 

As she closed the door and started walking down the street, I hoped I made the right decision letting her handle this on her own.

 

When I made it back to the pizzeria, I remembered my phone was cut off a few days ago. “Fuck.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awkward Ymir is my favorite Ymir. Comments are always appreciated! Critique is encouraged! And I'm open to hearing suggestions!


End file.
